Clear as a Bell (Dean Winchester is Saved)
by cjdreams98
Summary: ‘First words I heard, clear as a bell... Dean Winchester is saved.’ And even if Dean cant remember, this is how it happened... (Because who doesnt love Dean and Cas in perdition?)


_Time is strange Down Here_, he thinks. The hours and years could slink past and he'd never really be sure if they'd passed at all. There is nothing to mark his routine, to ground him, save the cycle of slice-or-be-sliced.

Though that's changed fairly recently, in truth.

Slice-and-be-sliced.

Dean thinks it's been about thirty years, give or take. Thirty years of blood and bones, of burning and peeling, shredding and shrieking. Thirty years of demon grins that pull as tight as the chains and hounds and flames and _remember Sam, remember your brother, your brother, your brother, your punk little brother, watch out for Sammy, watch out and remember_ \- Thirty years of taunts and teasing until something... collapses inside and he's begging and shaking like a man possessed because he cannot possibly endure another second when the seconds last this long.

And then there's relief.

Time is strange down here, so he doesn't think about the fact it's been seconds and centuries since he was on the rack. If he did, he might work out exactly when... exactly how many...

Too long.

Too many.

No.

Time is strange. Impossible to know (though he does. Know. The trick is not admitting it, even to himself).

He just works on whoever they bring him, and feigns ignorance of the whispers. The stares. There is an endless parade of demons stealing in and out of sight, and a long forgotten part of him thinks _they're bringing on the subs_. Another wonders what happened to first string - but wherever they are, they don't come back, and the subs are looking nervous so he focuses on his work and awaits whatever's coming.

He thinks it's something big.

*

_Time is strange Up Here_. Castiel has seen so many millennia that he's not quite sure how long they've been... debating. At first it's all white noise, so much static buzzing through his Celestial Body. There's talk of weapons and war, of seals and a cage. They speak of Heaven and Hell, of Him and _Him_, and Castiel tries not to think too loudly about it all.

That kind of thing can get you in trouble, after all.

Nobody mentions the humans.

Nobody mentions Earth.

Nobody seems to care it could all be lost, and in truth it's not his place to care, really, though the thought disturbs him, so he waits and watches and waits some more, sure a Mission will arrive any moment.

But it doesn't. Not yet.

His Mission arrives on January 24th 1979, when a child is born to Mary Winchester. There is the pang of something lost as Castiel remembers another Mary, another child, and then something in his being twists, his centre of gravity is... pushed, and a voice says this one's yours.

_Oh_.

Dean Winchester is his, so Cas is allowed fleeting glimpses of the boys childhood. A mother. A father. Later, a brother. Sam (_watch out for Sammy_, the voice warns, and Castiel fears that Cain and Abel are reborn, but Dean adores his brother, and his brother loves him before he can even speak, and the only trouble Cas can sense is a greedy pair of yellow eyes that close before he's really sure he's seen them -).

He is not allowed to intervene. He's not allowed to see it all, when it happens. Not really. Flashes. A nursery. A fire. Shoulders too small for the weight and weapons they bear. It's enough to make him despair. It's enough to make him livid, but _wait_ says the voice and he must.

Dean dies, and the voice says _wait_.

John dies, and the voice says _wait._

Sam dies, and the voice says _wait._

Souls are sold and the voice says wait, and for the first time Castiel understands his fallen brother. How long can anyone hope to obey such commands?

But he does, and the soul that was sold is collected.

Dean Winchester is lost. Damned. Cas can hear him scream and the voice does not budge and every part of him weeps, but he makes himself listen. Screams and all. Though Dean may never know it, Cas makes sure he's not alone. That much at least he can do.

And so it goes for thirty years, give or take. At least, thirty years Their time. Thirty years and it all unfolds, the voice cries go and Castiel storms the pit, plunges straight into the flames because he finally understands something. He finally understands what he was made to do, and he knows he will do it if it costs everything he is.

He fights for 10 years as the hounds rip at his wings and the fire grinds him down and he does not, will not stop because Dean is there, his Dean, the righteous man with the bloodied hands and just seeing him is...

Seeing him is everything.

*

They are blinding, whoever they are. They are radiant. Their touch is starlight, their voice an ocean and

they

are

_everything_.

*

They are beaten and drained, both, but Castiel has Dean and he knows he will never let him go. They fall endlessly up, crashing through the Earth and everything Above and Below all at once and still Cas doesn't let go. He keeps a grip on Dean's shaking shoulders and does his best to breathe life into a torn and tattered, tired and threadbare soul. They plummet and soar and race and collide and still Cas does not let go.

The world, the universe... it's all nothing if he does.

*

This is not what Dean expected - and he's still not sure what this is.

At first he's sure it's a trick. A game. To be raised, to be saved after all this time... it's too much to be true, and the last thing he deserves besides. But...

He can feel it dripping away. The darkness. The flames. It's further away by the second. Even as they fall (and he knows it's they, though he still doesn't know who they are), something light and cool and strong surrounds him, starts to fill the crevice in his chest.

_Stop_, he wants to say, _please don't_, because he knows it's a waste. He's barren and broken and far too poisonous for anything so pure to take root. To heal him.

But they don't. Instead there is forgiveness and devotion and every good thing Dean Winchester had forgotten, everywhere, everywhere, and if the pain hadn't left him paralysed he might laugh or sob or both.

_Why?_

_Why me?_

_You should've left me there._

_You should've let me rot._

And before his resolve weakens, he tries to break away, to send himself back where he belongs before the dogs hunt him down again.

The grip only tightens.

Dean wishes he was strong enough to fight it, but he's weak, and burnt, and so damn _tired_, so he shudders back a cry of despair and almost against his will finds himself leaning into the light, drowning in it, thinking if he has to die again, there are much worse ways to go.

*

Dean is not what Cas expects. He's heard the man is guarded and emotional, loyal and rebellious, intelligent and reckless. Altogether _human_.

He is all of those things and more, but mostly Dean is hurt. His soul is cracked and aching, pulsing with something that Cas knows would leech his hope if he'd let it. He doesn't.

He gives it willingly. He shares his hope and joy and relief and tries to soothe the pain. There is nothing from Dean, no sound or movement save one small shove against Cas's grasp. Cas holds him closer, tighter, and thinks _I will not let you go so easily. I won't let you destroy yourself._

_You deserve to be saved._

_Let yourself be saved._

And the thought is a miracle and the words are wonderful so he throws them to the seas and sky and worlds beyond:

_Dean Winchester is saved._


End file.
